Red Snapper Consolence
by sexy chick twist
Summary: Reagan Holt has a secret that her family doesn't know, and sometimes it gets to her, so she hides and lets her feelings out. What happens when a certain feline with a fancy for red snapper tries to console her? R&R, flames will be used to set Ian's lying pants on fire! Me: YOU LOVE AMY! Ian: NO I DONT YOU CRAZY GIT! AH! FIRE!


I got this idea whenever I was looking at Agent Get Amy And Ian Together's profile and so, I cannot claim the idea as sole mine, but I did write this story, which I hope she enjoys! If this was Wattpad, I would dedicate it to you Agent Amy And Ian Together, but its not, so I un-officially dedicate this to you, I wrote it in the morning, which is why it probably sucks, but here it is;

Proceed at your own risk reader, as they say,

"Let the reader beware,"

Reagan tried to hide it, she really did, but, dang it, she wished she could tell her family that she was a ballerina, that she was in plays, and that she _enjoyed_ it.

But she was afraid of the reaction that was inevitable once the information was handed to the strong, buff family of Tomas Holts – shame, humiliation, embarrassment, no respect, called a wimp… amongst other things.

So every now and then, when it got to much, she would go find somewhere to hide, and let it all out; sometimes she cried, others she screamed, once or twice she ranted to herself, once she rocked back and forth, kinda like a mental patent in a straight jacket… its not good to keep feelings bottled up, especially for a Holt.

Once or twice, a animal or two would find her, the cats trying to console her, the dogs to make her happier, once a wolf and her pup had found her and the mama had nudged her pup forward, licked her hand then sprinted off, a little while later, she returned, fresh kill in her mouth, and a few berries, (she reckoned the two-leg wouldn't like fresh-kill, and she _did_ seem distressed, the poppy berries should help a little at least… what happened to make her so sad?...) she had placed the berries in the poor girls lap and then split the fresh-kill with her pup, they stayed for a while, but soon they both had to leave.

Today's hiding spot was at the empty park that was (unbeknownst to Reagan,) close to Amy and Dan's house.

She knew that now.

About had a heart attack whenever Saladin, the sneakiness of a trained spy cat, added to their sneaky nature, jumped down in front of her.

The Egyptian Mau rubbed his face against her tear stained face; and let out what seemed to be a comforting meow, then what Reagan could only describe as a thinking face (What to do, what to do? Would it hel- of course it will help! It's RED SNAPPER!)

"Meow-mew." Translation: Stay here.

He raced off, and then reappeared approximately five seconds late, a wrapped up piece of –cooked and seasoned- red snapper in his jaw, (don't ask how he did it, it might get back to Dan and Amy and then they might make HIM get his OWN red snapper – please, _he_ is the owner of his two little pets, _not_ vice versa.) and he gently nudged her arm with his nose and gave her the red snapper.

Reagan had heard about how much red snapper meant to the cat (he had, after all, almost starved to death in Venice, Italy, because they didn't have red snapper, and he refused to eat regular cat food.)

"Thank you, Saladin." She whispered.

"Meow." (You're welcome.)

She saw that it was hot and seasoned, and she shook her head in awe and amusement, Grace had done many things in her life time, but one of the most impressive, was her beloved cat Saladin's training.

She took a bite, and moaned in delight (it was _delicious_!), after she swallowed her bite, she sighed and petted Saladin, telling him of her issues; he soon crawled into her lap and they shared the –delicious– red snapper, as he did his best to comfort her.

"Well, you remember my family?" she asked him, he nodded (cats are way smarter than those – those – those _things_, with their waving tales, and incredibly _small_ brains, why chase something just to go chase it again?), "Well, I love to dance, but I can't tell my family, there's no _telling_ how they would react…"

An hour later, the snapper was gone (it hadn't lasted long), and Saladin was curled around the poor dear's shoulders, purring, asleep, as was his pillow, emotional drain knocks you out pretty quickly.

No need for shifts to make sure none of those _things_ got close, it would probably bark and wake us up, (I still wonder how ostriches have a smaller brain than their eye, yet, they are _still_ smarter than those _things_, and _they_ have normal, albeit dumber and smaller, brains!)

And anyways, I still have 9 lives left, ah yes; the years are looking good for me, life in luxury, spy work, and, of course, my wonderful, delicious Red Snapper.

Saladin: It's not called red snapper!

Me: *sigh* for the last time, yes it is!

Saladin: No, it's called Heaven in a Delicious Physical Being!

Me: O.O


End file.
